


Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark

by CaptainAwesome242



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Afterlife, Blood and Injury, Cancer, Child Death, Death, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Other, Self-Harm, Suicide, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAwesome242/pseuds/CaptainAwesome242
Summary: “What’s it like to die, Jack?”He’d long since lost track of how many times he’d been asked that question.Only once did he ever answer with complete honestly.





	Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is so sad, I’m so sorry.
> 
> I want to start with warnings first, I think that’s the most important. I genuinely don’t give a shit if it gives away spoilers, I’d much rather people who need a warning know in advance what to expect. I think I’ve tagged all the major ones but this fic contains:
> 
> \- Death of a child, through cancer
> 
> \- Self harm, with a knife
> 
> \- Suicide, (he knows he will come back to life but still) on two occasions - one through blood loss after the self harming and one by poison
> 
> I don’t think any of these things are described too graphically, but I don’t personally find any of them especially triggering so it would be impossible to judge. If any of these are triggers for you then please, please proceed with caution or don’t proceed at all. I don’t care if you don’t read it, I’d much rather you looked after yourself and don’t risk it if you are unsure.
> 
> Right, on with the fic. I wanted to write some sad stuff about Jack. This turned out much sadder than planned but I wanted to post it anyway. Immortality is one of the most heartbreaking premises to me because of the loneliness and the people you have to leave behind and I don’t think the true horror of it is ever really explored in fiction about it.
> 
> I’ve tagged Torchwood because obviously Jack is the main character but I’ve never seen the show, so any inaccuracies there are because of that. I’m not really bothered because I didn’t write it with the show in mind, just letting you know in case of any contradictions. 
> 
> Timeline is during Jack’s life on Earth before his reunion with the Doctor in the series 3 episode “Utopia”.
> 
> Title taken from I Will Follow You Into The Dark by Death Cab For Cutie

“What’s it like to die, Jack?”

He’d long since lost track of how many times he’d been asked that question. It was the one thing that everyone wanted to know, the greatest mystery of the universe - what lay in store in the afterlife? It was rare, when he revealed his situation to another, that they didn’t ask some variation of that question. He was used to it. He understood the curiosity and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t ask the same thing if the roles were reversed.

Sometimes he wished they were.

Still, for all the times he’d been asked the question his answers were never the same. Many were similar, of course, but they all depended on who had asked, and how. Sometimes he’d joke about shaking hands with ‘the big guy’, then flipping him off as he returned to his body. Other times he would complain about how rough the devil was with his pitchfork in the land of fire and brimstone. Occasionally, he’d tone it down and simply say he didn’t know, which in a certain sense was true - he didn’t know what it was like to die, to well and truly kick the bucket, because he always came back.

Only once did he ever answer with complete honestly.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Jack spoke softly, a tender smile curving his lips.

The chair he sat in was uncomfortable at best and downright torturous at worst, rock hard and digging in to all the wrong places. Hospital furniture never changed.

Lying in the bed, hooked up to a tangle of tubes and wires, was a small girl. Made even smaller by the oversized gown she’d been dressed in the girl barely left an imprint in the bedding, she weighed so little. There wasn’t much of her left. Her sickly pallor was an almost perfect match for the starched sheets draped over her, her brown eyes the only colour left on the poor thing. Her fiery copper hair had long since fallen out.

She was a ghost of her former self, and Jack had never felt such raw fury at the universe before this moment.

Her parents had met and fallen in love at work, under Jack’s leadership at Torchwood. In him Jack had found a brother and she was his common sense, his voice of reason. Over almost two hundred years Jack had come to know many people; people who all invariably, inevitably, died. It was the harsh truth of the universe and Jack had learned his lesson, over and over again, not to allow people close, not to let them hurt him as they always did.

But time and time again he found himself getting attached, wilfully ignorant of their impending fate because he’d always been a man in need of company. And by god the loneliness of the immortal wanderer was crippling. He finally felt something of a kinship with the last of the Time Lords, even if the man had abandoned him.

A few years later his friends brought a beautiful baby girl into the world. She was pure and light and beauty and all that was good in the universe. Jack was asked to be her godfather, and against every instinct, against his best judgment, he agreed.

As the girl grew she was a bundle of pure joy, bringing light and happiness to everyone she met. Jack ignored reason. He blocked out the painfully honest voice in the back of his head that reminded him she would die long before he would, and allowed her to illuminate the darkest parts of his heart. He didn’t have much experience with kids but he struck up an easy rapport with the girl who never frowned. Who wouldn’t? Everyone at Torchwood had a soft spot of their little mascot.

When Jack had accepted his role as godfather he’d hoped it would only be a token gesture, or a term of affection, not a plate he’d ever have to seriously step up to.

He should have known better.

He should have known the voice in the back of his head never lied, no matter how hard he wanted to believe otherwise.

His goddaughter was six when the universe grew weary of her perfect life and stole her parents away. A car crash. Jack was angered by just how mundane it was, how ordinary of an end for two such wonderfully extraordinary people. It had been a typical Friday night and a typical drunk driver had run a typical red light. A nurse had rung Jack to tell him that as their emergency contact he was the first to be informed of their terrible fate. He had sat staring numbly at the wall for the rest of the night, wondering how the hell he would explain to the girl tucked into the guest bedroom upstairs why her parents wouldn’t be here to pick her up in the morning.

It was hard initially, Jack had never had to deal with anyone’s grief besides his own before. Now would normally be the time where he left, moved on to a place untouched by those he’d just lost, but now he had an obligation. He had sworn legal guardianship over their daughter, and nothing in the entire fucked-up universe would ever make him walk away. Ever.

They helped each other through their grief. It helped Jack to have someone to focus on besides himself, and it helped her that her third parent, for that was essentially what he was, was there for her. Jack had never even considered having children before, he didn’t even know if he could now, but after his goddaughter moved in he couldn’t imagine life without her. He wanted to give her the world and protect her from it all at once.

Of course, Jack fumed, of fucking course the universe wasn’t finished with his precious girl.

It started one afternoon. A typical Tuesday afternoon. Jack picked her up from school at the typical time but atypically, she didn’t come bounding energetically up to him. She told him she wasn’t feeling well, nowhere in particular, she just felt wrong and tired. Jack ignored the rock that made itself at home in his stomach and carried her home.

“Let’s get you home and into bed then, a good nap should have you all fixed up,”

A good nap and the whole night later the little girl felt no better, so Jack took her to see the doctor. A few tests and a diagnosis later, livid rage boiled through the man.

Cancer. Fucking cancer.

And as is the cruel way of the universe; inoperable cancer.

Why couldn’t she have been born two centuries later, when the cure for cancer was a sip of medicine. When there was far tighter control over drunk driving and flying and her parents could still have been there with her.

He’d put on a brave face for her, waiting until she was in bed that night to take out his anger at the universe. To beg and bargain with whoever was up there to take him instead, to please spare this innocent child who’d already lost too much. She was eight years old for christ’s sake. Eight!

In the resulting silence he’d taken the sharpest knife in his toolkit slashed his wrists, needing the physical pain to channel the internal anguish he was drowning in. Rows and rows of deep jagged lines ran up his arms until he finally died from the blood loss. When he woke, arms healed and scar-free, he spent the rest of the night scrubbing the blood from the floor. No need to terrify the child with a scene from a horror movie in her own living room.

After painfully few weeks of maximising their time together, the treatments became too much and the girl was hospitalised. Jack knew she would never leave.

He’d sat by her bedside for almost five days before she asked the question everyone always did.

“Does it hurt?” She croaked, fear flickering across her dull, tired eyes.

Jack shook his head, “No baby-doll, it’s the easiest feeling in the world. All the hurt stays here, and you feel all warm and safe,”

“That sounds nice,” she tried to adjust herself, arms twitching feebly as the exhaustion made moving impossible.

Jack stood and gently moved her to a more comfortable position, trailing his fingers tenderly down her hollow cheek.

It was quiet for a long moment, the only sounds were her rasping breaths and the beeps of the heart monitor, ruthlessly counting down the beats. Jack knew it wouldn’t be long now. He took her small hand in his larger one and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Her doe eyes drifted lazily to his, Jack felt them burn with tears but refused to let them fall. He needed to be strong.

“I think I’m going soon,” She wheezed.

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding unsteadily, “Do you want me to go with you?”

She said nothing, she couldn’t, but he could see the plea in her eyes. Keeping one hand loosely but securely around hers he reached into the inner pocket of his long coat and retrieved a small vial of clear liquid, careful to keep it from her view. As the beats on the monitor stuttered and stopped and the girl’s glassy eyes slid shut for the final time, Jack popped the stopper and downed the contents.

After a second of blackness he found himself in the usual expanse of grey. All around him was dull and devoid of colour, save for the shock of copper hair at his right elbow. Back to her usual vibrant self she looked up at him and beamed.

“You were right, Jack, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she exclaimed, pure glee written across her face.

Jack swallowed down his emotions and flashed her a cocky smile, “Of course I was right, I’m always right,”

He knew he didn’t have long, the tell-tale flashes of golden fire appearing before his eyes. He held on with all he had, but he could tell he was fading.

A touch of sadness crossed the girl’s face as she launched herself at him. Jack caught her easily and held on tight, committing every detail of this to memory.

“I’ll miss you, Jack,” though she spoke into the crook of his neck he heard her clear as day - the wonders of limbo.

“I’ll miss you too, baby-doll,” he gave her a final squeeze and set her down to look at her face, which suddenly perked up.

“I can hear mummy and daddy, they’re calling me!”

“Run to them, tell them what a big brave girl you are, and how goddamn proud I am of you!” Jack gave her a nudge.

She gave him a sly grin, the one she had picked up from him, and said, “I’m going to tell them you just swore!” before she turned and ran into the distance, her giggles filtering back to him as she vanished in a flash of brilliant white light.

He opened his eyes with a ragged gasp, finding himself once again at the bedside in the dimly lit hospital room. A nurse hurried into the room, took stock of the situation, and turned off the wretched heart monitor.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said quietly, though full of feeling.

Jack finally let the tears fall as he shook his head, “She’s in a better place now,”

He touched his lips to the child’s forehead for a long moment before he pulled away, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had dripped from his cheeks to hers. He sniffed loudly, tucking his hands in his pockets. Giving his daughter one last look he walked away, leaving the nurse to her ministrations.

She was safe, she was loved, and she would never hurt again. It was far more than he could say for himself but right then he couldn’t care less. He had no idea how many times he’d died but he could say with absolute certainty that this most recent death was the most painful, but it had been worth it to see her happy once again.

He could try to promise himself he wouldn’t hurt like this again, to swear off of people and relationships but it would be pointless. Love wasn’t a tap you could turn on and off and if it was he never would. The universe had cursed him with this wretched life but he’d be damned if he stopped living because of it. He refused to tiptoe through existence, he wanted to love and laugh and hurt and cry.

And if the universe didn’t like it?

Well then it could just go and fuck itself.


End file.
